


My Brain is Hanging Upside Down

by embroiderama



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Tarot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-17
Updated: 2012-04-17
Packaged: 2017-11-03 19:53:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/385265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embroiderama/pseuds/embroiderama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting kidnapped gives Danny the time to contemplate family and think about where he wants to go with his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Brain is Hanging Upside Down

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [](http://stevedannoslash.livejournal.com/profile)[**stevedannoslash**](http://stevedannoslash.livejournal.com/) Spring Fling challenge for [](http://superbadgirl.livejournal.com/profile)[**superbadgirl**](http://superbadgirl.livejournal.com/)'s [prompt](http://stevedannoslash.livejournal.com/914504.html?thread=3173960#t3173960) which clicked in my mind with [this](http://pics.livejournal.com/embroiderama/pic/0007fapa) pictorial inspiration. Thank you to [](http://zortified.livejournal.com/profile)[**zortified**](http://zortified.livejournal.com/) for the beta. Title from The Ramones.

The scenery was truly beautiful, Danny thought, lush and green and untouched. As much as he liked to bitch about living on the island, he would've--under protest--enjoyed a day out there with Steve. Hiking until his muscles were loose and humming with a pleasant kind of heat, enjoying a picnic lunch, a couple cans of beer, slipping his hands under the hem of Steve's shirt and tasting sweat as he used his tongue to trace the lines of ink on Steve's back. Only, that wasn't exactly on the menu these days, so he thought about something a little more PG, walking through the trees holding Rachel's hand, the two of them watching as Gracie ran ahead to look at every blossom, every tree.

Even tracking some escaped criminal through the rainforest was a fantasy of epic proportions compared to Danny's reality. He opened his eyes and looked at all of the upside down trees surrounding him, the branches drooping upward towards the ground, leaves fluttering up from the sky. He looked up at his feet, secured to a (thankfully stout) branch with rope. The ground was fifteen or twenty feet down, and everything that had been in his pockets was down there, completely out of reach even if his hands weren't tied behind his back. His wallet, his change for the vending machine, his keys with the Swiss Army knife on the keychain, his phone.

Danny figured that if Steve were in his position, strung up in a tree by three of Sanderson's goons, he'd have himself free already. He probably had a knife sewn into his clothes and a phone strapped to his leg. He'd be able to slip the ties on his wrists, curl himself up to grab the rope and climb his way to freedom, some combination of ninja SEAL skills and the benefits of what Danny suspected were some old Abs of Steel tapes Steve had probably been squirreling away since high school.

Not that Danny was some kind of lightweight. He was pretty sure the taller goon was walking around with a busted jaw if the crunch when Danny's foot had connected was anything to go by. His whole body had been flooded with adrenaline, from the bitter taste in his mouth to the manic energy in his muscles, from the moment he saw the rope. He'd thought of Grace, thought _this is it_ and felt his throat squeezing shut in anticipation, and when they caught his kicking feet and tightened the rope around his ankles he'd nearly pissed himself in relief.

They hoisted him up in the air, tied the rope off near the ground and left. Danny hadn't even been able to shout after them, his whole body riding out the departing wave of adrenaline, his breath locked up in his chest, his head swimming from the rush of blood. It was when he heard the grinding gears of their truck driving off down the access road that he realized how alone he was. How fucked.

"Who the hell do they think I am?" He asked the trees and the birds and whatever else was around listening. "David Blaine? Fuck!" Frustration gathered in his chest and he let it out with one long, "FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!" that was loud enough to leave his throat raw.

Birds burst out of the trees, a frenzy of fluttering, and Danny heard a faint echo of his own voice but there was nothing else. There _wouldn't_ be anything else, Danny knew with a sickening certainty, not unless the team managed to get his location out of Sanderson or his goons.

"I'm not cut out for this Rambo jungle action shit," he murmured to himself, but he knew he had to try. He had a vague idea of setting the rope swinging and then hurling himself up far enough that he could at least clamber up onto the branch and then figure out what to next. And he might not be Steve but he wasn't exactly a damsel in distress either; he had abs, thank you very much. He thought that at least he'd last longer stuck upright on a branch than dangling upside down because, seriously, he was not David Blaine. Busting a gasket in his brain at the ripe old age of 34 wasn't the way he wanted to leave the world.

He braced himself with a few deep breaths and then pushed his shoulders forward and pulled them back, repeated it until the rope was swinging in widening (nauseating) arcs. At the height of one swing he gathered up all the energy in his core and pushed his upper body up--up--then he felt the line go slack, the knot shifting around his ankles. Letting out an utterly un-manlike shriek, he dropped back down but not before his left foot slipped free, and when he hit the bottom of his arc the knot was yanked tight around his right foot only.

Danny panted as he looked at the ground moving back and forth underneath his head, so much further down than he ever wanted to fall, especially not head-first with no way to catch himself. Danny's breathing settled as the rope's movement petered out into stillness. _Calm down_ , he told himself silently as his heartbeat pounded in his ears. _Calm down, calm down, calm down._

When he had finally relaxed, his untied left leg flopped out to the side and set the rope to moving again, so Danny pulled it close to his belly but that was worse. Finally he folded it behind his right knee, ankle resting on the meat of his thigh. It was awkward but stable and he felt the pressure in his head lessen as his blood pressure went down. He understood now that there was truly no way to get himself down, no way down at all unless somebody came to help him or the tree limb decided to snap off.

He was hoping for the first option, hoping for it more than anything, but he found a strange kind of peace in knowing that there was nothing he could do. It was like commuting on the train: sometimes it got stuck in a tunnel, sometimes a lady had a baby or somebody decided to jump on the tracks or the power went out. The amateurs got pissed off, got all worked up about how late they were going to be, and how much the train needed to start moving right. this. instant.

But the people who accepted that they didn't have any control over when the train started, the people who were just as glad not to have that responsibility? They settled in, no matter how crowded the train was. They pulled their books in closer and kept reading or just closed their eyes and thanked the higher power of the transit gods for a few more minutes of nobody needing them for anything. Fact was, Danny always wanted to be one of the zen commuters but most of the time he'd felt more like one of the assholes who'd start yelling at the disembodied voice announcing the delays. So he bought a car and stuck to yelling at other cars in traffic most of the time because then at least he had some illusion of control.

But he'd never been able to control Rachel and he sure as hell couldn't control Steve. He was trying like hell to manage the situation, putting the kibosh on whatever he and Steve had been developing and jumping at the chance to try again with Rachel, but here, now, when he had nothing more to do than swing in the wind and listen to his own thoughts it didn't feel very controlled. It felt like he was stuck in the tunnel between two stations with only the emergency lights on and no idea which direction he was supposed to be heading.

Thinking about the train made Danny think about the first time he ever took the PATH train into Manhattan and then the subway, with his Nana Laska. The couple times he'd gone into the city with his parents, his dad drove the old station wagon, complaining about the tolls and the traffic and the highway robbery of the parking decks. Nana Laska didn't drive, always took the bus to the beauty salon and the doctor, but she liked to take the train in to visit the old neighborhood.

They'd walk on Second Avenue, and she'd let Danny have pastries and cherry soda for lunch, as long as he promised not to tell his mother, and sometimes they'd go up to midtown to see a show. Nana Laska had died when Danny was in tenth grade; he didn't think of her often, but for some reason his thoughts kept pulling in her direction. His sisters and Matty hadn't liked spending much time at Nana's apartment, and Danny understood why--the old sofa covered in stiff plastic, the weird smell, the Game Show Network--but he was her favorite and she always had canned peaches in heavy syrup, the kind his mother would never buy.

And she had her cards. She liked to play Gin Rummy, and sometimes she'd take out her other cards, though Danny was never allowed to touch them, just watch.

"Ma," his mother would complain, "don't let the kids play with those damn cards."

Nana Laska would say, "Yes, Deborah." Then she'd look at Danny and shake her head like they were sharing a secret. Danny loved his mother but he knew that she could be like a pit bull when she got her teeth on something, which was fine because at least Danny knew he came by it naturally.

But her cards, her tarot cards, no matter how much they bugged his mother Danny liked them. Nana Laska didn't lay out the cards in complicated patterns like the fortune tellers on TV; she just shuffled the deck, the soft susurrus of well-worn cards moving against each other, and then turned a few over on the table. She'd look at them for minutes at a time, _hmmm_ ing over them occasionally, and then start the whole process over. She never said much, but Danny was allowed to sit and watch, as long as he was quiet, and sitting there at Nana Laska's formica table was just about the only time Danny managed to be that still.

Some things didn't change much, Danny thought. He was still no good at being still, the same person as the kid his dad used to threaten to tape down to the pew in church. _Still, still, still_ , Danny let the word loop in his head, focused on it against the ache in his right leg that made him want to bend and flex and try to find a better position. It seemed too likely that the only other position he'd find himself in would be on the ground with a broken neck, where he'd probably be eaten by boars.

He really didn't want Steve finding chewed on by boars, and Steve _would_ find him, one way or another. It was Danny's job to stay alive until then. He didn't know how much time had gone by since Sanderson's goons had grabbed him and he could never tell the time of day by the sun the way he could back home, but it felt like hours. Hours and hours.

He'd woken up that morning with one thought in mind--seeing Rachel. Grace had a sleepover at a friend's house and Stan was out of town, so Rachel had invited him out to dinner. Being with Rachel again was confusing and wonderful, and every date he'd had with her in the last month had been days of anticipation, then the dizzy rush of being together followed what might as well have been a hangover. His head would ache with the mindfuck of being 'the other man' in a relationship with the mother of his child; he'd feel sick about keeping it from Steve and trying to keep it from Grace.

He'd tried not to think about it, why being with Rachel was so difficult when it was all he'd wanted for so long and he was busy enough that not thinking wasn't a difficult thing to do. Every week, some asshole was trying to blow something up, and almost every day he was in the car, touring the island at terrifying speeds courtesy of Steve McGarrett. Steve was a maniac, a threat to life and limb and civil tranquility, Rambo with a surfboard, and if that was all there was to him Danny's life would've been simpler.

The first time he'd slept with Steve , they'd both been wasted on exhaustion, the thrill of a job well done, and a plentiful supply of Longboards. It didn't take long to stop looking for excuses and start heading straight to Steve's at the end of the day, tangling their limbs together because when everything else was complicated and frustrating the two of them were simple. Steve never tried to talk about feelings, and Danny never asked for any promises. They'd fuck in Steve's bed and drink coffee together in the morning, and it was _good_.

But then Danny had to go and almost die from sarin exposure, and suddenly Rachel was there, her body warm next to his and her smile, the one she hadn't shared with him in years, suddenly his again. He couldn't say no to her, but he didn't know what to say to Steve. They'd never talked about what they had, never said the word love, so Danny didn't know how to talk about it being gone.

Danny just stayed away from Steve's house unless the whole team was there, and he tried to avoid Steve's eyes and the wordless questions he saw there. The loss he saw there.

Now that Danny had nowhere to go, nobody to chase, nothing to do but think and dangle and look at the trappings of his life strewn on the ground below him, he had to wonder if he was being a fool. He loved Rachel, absolutely, and he thought he always would. She was beautiful and smart, and she'd given him Grace, but that hadn't been enough glue to hold their marriage together the first time around. Danny still worked too much, and she still wanted too much, and if they were to live together again rather than sneaking around like teenagers they would work on each other's nerves the same way they had back in New Jersey. He could see now that he was chasing after something long gone, and nothing was going to come of it but hurt.

He couldn't put Grace through that again, couldn't put any of them through it. He and Rachel would always be family, would always share their lives through Grace, but Rachel needed to try to make things work with Stan, and Danny--Danny needed to have a conversation with Steve that involved words rather than hands and lips and condoms. He didn't know if Steve would forgive him but he had to try because he could see, finally he could see that there was more than one kind of family and he'd come dangerously close to throwing that away.

"Danny!"

Danny blinked his eyes open and below him was Steve, his aneurysm face clear even from twenty feet up, with a police dog at his feet, the dog's handler a few steps behind. Danny smiled, wondering what that looked like upside down, and called back, "Hey."

"You okay up there?" Steve's voice was loud, worried. "We've been walking around here calling your name for fifteen minutes; you didn't hear us? What were you doing, taking a nap?"

"I'm a busy man, thanks to you. Gotta get my rest when I can."

"Uh-huh, well, nap time's over. We're getting you down from there, okay?"

"Sounds good to me." Now that he was paying attention again, Danny's leg ached from ankle to hip, his shoulders cramped from being held still, blood pounding between his temples from the combination of gravity and relief. He watched as Steve conferred with the Search and Rescue team, then the thick rope was cut and carefully unwound from around the base of the tree. Two guys Danny barely recognized worked together to slowly lower him, and then Steve's hands were around his shoulders, Chin took his legs, and he was upright.

Blood rushed from his head to his feet, and the rainforest shifted and blurred around him until he felt solid ground under his ass, Steve pushing his head forward with one strong hand, Kono's more delicate fingers undoing the rope on his wrists and massaging the worst of the spasms out of his shoulders. When Danny opened his eyes and sat up he saw Chin slipping the rope off of his foot. Steve crouched in front of him, his eyes wide, brows drawn together, and Danny's arms were weak, half numb, but he looped them around Steve's shoulders and hung on until he felt his heartbeat start to slow down close to normal.

"Hey." Steve's voice was quiet, careful. "You okay, Danno?"

"M'good." Danny pulled away, wiped his sleeve over his eyes. "Now that I've got my feet on the ground, I'm good."

"I hate to tell you, but it's more like your butt on the ground right now."

"Minor details. Somebody want to help me stand up?"

"Relax, Danno." Steve's hand was heavy on Danny's shoulder. "We've got medics coming in to pack you out of here."

"No, no way. They want to check me out, we can meet them up at the access road. Just help me?" He looked at Steve then Chin and Kono, the concerned faces of his family.

Steve shook his head and then rose to a crouch, one arm under Danny's shoulder and around his back. Chin mirrored his position on the other side, and Danny pushed up with his left leg until he was upright and steady. Kono picked up Danny's phone, wallet and keys and the four of them made their way out to the road and the waiting ambulance.

As far as Danny was concerned, he was breathing and conscious and more or less walking so there was no way he was getting strapped down to a gurney and rushed to the hospital in the ambulance. He wouldn't mind getting checked out and maybe going home with some friendly pain pills, but that was it. He let the EMTs confirm for themselves that he was indeed not in any immediate danger of expiring and then he let Steve help him into his truck. Never before had he been so happy to see scenery flying past him at an unsafe speed.

They were strangely quiet, the sound of the road under Steve's tires taking the place of conversation, and Danny missed the way they used to always have something to say to each other.

"Hey," Danny said, clearing his throat. "Uh, I wanna talk to you about some stuff."

"Yeah? We've got about ten minutes before we get to the hospital."

"Five the way you're driving."

"You're one to talk!"

"Yeah, yeah. Did you tell Rachel I was missing?"

Steve was quiet for a minute. "I, uh, I didn't want to scare her in case it was nothing, but she called me when she couldn't get you on your cell. Kono's taking care of letting her know you're okay."

"That's good. I, uh, I probably ought to talk to her before I talk to you but I can't--I have to--"

"Danny?"

"I thought about some stuff, up in that tree. Didn't have much else to do, you know?"

"You think about maybe not going off on your own and getting kidnapped?"

"I don't need a babysitter to get coffee, Steven."

"Apparently you--"

"It wasn't my fau--"

"I thought you were dead!" Steve shouted, and Danny stopped talking mid-word. Steve continued, his voice rough. "I thought you were dead, and I was going to have to tell Grace that she lost her Danno. And I was going to have to tell Rachel that she lost her--her--whatever you are now."

Danny swallowed hard. "You know."

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" The hurt was plain in Steve's voice, and Danny wanted to reach across the seat but he didn't know if it would be welcome.

"No, I'm the idiot in this equation. I need to talk to Rachel as soon as possible."

"I'm sure."

"I need to tell her that I can't be with her anymore. I love her but I'm not the right man for her, and she's not the person I want to have in my life. Not anymore."

Steve was silent, but when Danny looked over at him he was staring determinedly ahead, his jaw clenching and relaxing in time with his breaths.

"What I realized, hanging there like Grandpa Munster, is that what I want more than anything is a second chance with the person I'm really supposed to be with."

Steve still didn't turn, but Danny could see tension in every line of his body, like every part of him was holding its breath.

"And that would be you, you idiot."

Steve yanked the truck over to the side of the road with a screech of tires on asphalt. He slammed the transmission into park, popped his seatbelt and turned to look at Danny, his eyes wide and damp but somehow hopeful in a way they hadn't been since Danny shoved so much distance between them. "I should tell you to go fuck yourself," he said, his voice unsteady.

Danny's stomach clenched up, but he held steady. "You probably should."

"But I thought you were gone, and now you're not. I don't think I can say no to you today."

"Not being gone is something I plan to make a habit of. But you can say no to me tomorrow if you'll just have me tonight."

"If I have you?" Steve reached across the space between them and cupped a hand around the back of Danny's neck. "If I have you I'm not letting you go again so easily."

"I can live with that." Danny pushed himself up on his left knee and turned until he was close enough to grab Steve's shoulder, to drag him in and kiss him. He tasted Steve's lips and breathed his breath, and he never wanted to stop..until his right leg cramped up and suddenly reminded him that, hello, it really wanted some drugs in the near future. "Ow," he said, turning back in his seat and rubbing his hip.

"Crap, I need to get you to the hospital." Steve put his seatbelt back on and pulled back onto the road.

"I like that plan, but after they release me--"

" _If_ they release you."

" _After_ they release me, because I'm okay, and after I talk to Rachel, you think we could go back to your place?"

"Danno," Steve said, his voice oddly gentle, "do you really think I'd have it any other way?"

Steve swung the truck into the hospital parking lot, and Danny looked at the trees planted all around them. He was never so glad to see they were right side up.

**Author's Note:**

> You can [comment here on LJ](http://embroiderama.livejournal.com/462581.html?mode=reply#add_comment) if you prefer.


End file.
